Growing up, Joe Paterno was an icon in my house. His first name need only be spoken for recognition. Kind of like Cher. No one ever says "Cher who?" Not only did we hear his name, but his physical presence was there, too. A cardboard cutout of JoePa accessorized our living room.

I come from a Penn State family. I'm the youngest of four siblings who all graduated from State during the Joe years. I got to know — and love — Happy Valley from a kid's perspective on fall Saturday afternoons:

•The pre-renovated Beaver Stadium, when you could still see Mount Nittany from the stands.

•The excitement of the drum major front-flipping without losing his huge, furry hat as the blue band marched in formation.

•The thrills and chills of watching the lion, cheerleaders and Joe leading the nameless blue jerseys onto the field.

Joe ran onto the field then and did so right up until the end. Well, almost until the end.

I actually met Joe a few times. The first was when I was dating the man who would become my husband, Brian, a Nittany Lion defensive back who graduated in 1983. Brian was showing me around the trophy room in the football complex when in walked Joe. I know I shook Joe's hand when Brian introduced us, but I was young and awestruck and I was so tongue-tied I'm not sure I uttered one intelligible word.

My husband "walked-on" with 75-plus hopeful guys during the spring of 1981. Brian was one of a handful who made it. Joe recognized his talents and not only gave him a chance, but a scholarship, too.

Would Brian be the same man he is today if Jimmy Johnson or any of the other coaches of that era had been in his face on the sidelines? I think not. Brian definitely had the determination and raw talent to make the team. Joe provided the coaching and leadership that not only molded Brian into a better ballplayer, but into the fine man and father he is today.

Joe's coaching went well beyond the gridiron. His lettermen not only learned game plays but life lessons: Perseverance, for when the chips are way down. Integrity and loyalty, for when the press and public want —and get — your coach's head on a silver platter.

They learned quickly the true meaning of being a teammate the first time they dressed in a nameless jersey. A team wins or loses the game as a team, not as a group of individuals.

In his 46 years as head coach despite the NCAA's irrational decision to vacate some of his victories, Paterno led the Nittany Lions to 409 wins, 37 bowl games and two national championships. My husband wears the coveted 1982 championship ring.

But perhaps the most awe-inspiring statistic — released by the NCAA in 2013 — was the one most important to Joe, the graduation rate. For the football players entering Penn State in 2006 — the last men to be a part of Joe's "Grand Experiment" of building a football program that excelled in academics and on the field — their graduation success rate was 85 percent; considerably higher than the 70 percent average of the Football Bowl Subdivision schools.

Among the Big Ten, Penn State ranked No. 2, coming in behind what many consider to be the "Ivy League" of the conference, Northwestern. Joe never got to see that graduation stat, but he would have been proud. I have to believe he's smiling at the irony of the NCAA's lauding the success of his "Grand Experiment."

I wish James Franklin all the best as new head coach. A self-proclaimed "Pennsylvania boy with a Penn State heart," Franklin already bleeds blue and white. He's put together an impressive 2014 recruiting class and has the support from current players and lettermen. All seem to be charged by Franklin's energy and enthusiasm.

"Relationships" is Franklin's mantra. Building relationships with recruits, their families, players, coaches, lettermen, alumni, students, faculty and administration — the Penn State community, divided as it may be.

As for Paterno's "Grand Experiment," Franklin just may be the one person who can continue it. He seems to be cut from the same cloth as JoePa. But perhaps he can do even more. Perhaps he can make us whole again. Something else to make Joe smile. Welcome home, James Franklin. We are … Penn State!